Solo
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Leia tells Han one of the many things she never needed a man for. That kind of independence...can drive a many crazy. H/L; ESB/Bespin Trip.
_a/n: a little racier than i usually write, but then again by my standards in other fandoms, completely mild._
 _i just generally avoid any star wars that's too smutty._

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 ** _Solo_**

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Leia was sure; she was _sure_ that if she'd been told that within a week of letting Han take charge of her evacuation from Hoth she'd be half-naked with him in the cockpit of the _Falcon,_ she'd have laughed the idea into another dimension. Han was sure – well, he was sure that, told the same thing, his response would be that he needed at least another six months to thaw her up _that_ much.

Whatever it was about the prospect of an _agonizingly_ slow creep to the Anoat system that obliterated her inhibitions, he didn't question it, and giving in seemed to dissolve every thick layer of stress that had plagued her since her world had exploded before her eyes three years ago, so she didn't question it, either.

He lounged back in the captain's chair in a state of extreme leisure, his shirt abandoned somewhere over the controls. Leia, clad merely in a loose shirt of his and the undergarments she'd worn under her snowsuit, straddled his lap as if it were her own personal kingdom – something he surrendered to without a fight.

Her skin seemed electrically charged; it twitched under his fingers as he ran his hands up her sides and over her ribs. She pressed closer to him every time his palms brushed new territory, and he leaned forward to kiss her neck aggressively, tempted to accuse her again of trying to kill him.

"Leia," he said huskily, his lips moving against her throat. He swallowed hard.

She moaned softly, and took his face in her hands, looking down at him – it was the only situation in which she ever looked down at him; he was so much taller than her, when she wasn't in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and anchored her to him. His fingers gathered the shirt in his hands, and then he maneuvered it off of her, drawing her back against him when she shivered slightly.

"Where's Chewie?" she asked suddenly, putting her lips close to his – she only sounded marginally concerned.

Han shrugged.

"He'll leave us alone."

"You…told him what we're doing in here?"

"No," Han retorted, affronted. "But he'll know."

"You're so sure?" she bristled, lowering her voice, eyeing the closed door warily.

"Sure, Sweetheart," he answered smoothly, wrapping some of her hair around his wrist possessively. He lowered his voice, too. "You're very loud," he teased.

She blushed, pressing her lips to his to shut him up. He grinned into the kiss, tilting his head back after a moment.

"You know," he said huskily. "I expected you to be timid."

She considered him, and rested her elbows lightly on his shoulders, her face lingering near his.

"And when have I ever exhibited a penchant for timidity?" she asked softly.

"Bedroom's different than the Senate," he said."

"We're in the cockpit."

He sighed heavily.

"You're amazing," he growled. "I can't believe you got off Coruscant untouched."

She considered him intently for a moment, and then arched one eyebrow delicately.

"That's a running problem with men," she said very quietly, her tone thoughtfully. "You think that virgins have never been touched at all, and whores have done everything and want everything, and you think there's nothing in between."

"Hmm," he murmured. "What's in between?"

She tilted her head, and looked at him silently, her expression slightly mysterious, slightly demure – she'd had sweet young affairs on Alderaan, almost-there moments, but she'd always been too careful for anything else.

"Han, I was very young when I started my political career," she murmured. "There was no discretion on Coruscant. There were few people who could be trusted – there was unacceptable risk in involving a second person in my private life – especially as a Princess."

He nodded; he figured that made sense. He'd pegged her simply for a prude, but she was hotter to the touch than any prude he'd ever known. He leaned in to kiss her again, and then drew back, his brow furrowing.

"Involving a second person?" he asked suddenly, clearing his throat. As if she'd been - ?

She shrugged.

"Well," she began delicately. "Why risk a scandal when I could handle certain things by myself?" she asked.

Han blinked at her, and his mouth suddenly felt extremely dry. His fingers pressed into her hips desperately.

"What are you saying?" he asked hoarsely, his imagination going wild.

She smiled at him softly.

"It was something I learned from a mentor, who advised me on avoiding scandals," she murmured. "You only need the man when the love is there; if it's just pleasure, you only need yourself."

She could recite the advice on memory, because she'd been so starkly embarrassed by it at the time, but the sincerity behind the other senator's seasoned wisdom had been real.

Han had closed his eyes; he was biting his lip. Leia rested her forehead on his until he opened them again, and she kissed him, proud of herself for rendering him speechless.

"You," he said huskily, "alone in those fancy Senate apartments – " he broke off, strangled by the thought, impossibly turned on by it.

Her eyes glittered at him; she winked, and he thought it the most unexpected thing she'd ever done, aside from sleeping with him in the first place, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her close.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he growled – there was almost an edge of pain in his tone, and her breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes. He scared her sometimes, and if he thought it was because he was the most intimate she'd ever been with a man, so be it; he was half-right – but it was mostly because she'd never been in love before, and losing her heart frightened her more than losing anything as biologically pointless as her so-called _innocence_.

She pursed her lips, tilting her head at him.

"I got my kicks solo on Coruscant; I get my kicks from Solo here," she quipped.

Han groaned and pushed his head against her collarbone. She was so much more enticing than he'd ever dared dream –

"You're incredible," he praised gruffly, a little taken aback by his own reverence.

She lifted his head, and met his eyes. Looking at the soft crease in his brow, the scar on his chin, the lust written on his face that was somehow aggressive and gentle all at once – she swallowed hard, her sultry attitude wavering some.

"You understand, Han," she said softly. "If it was just pleasure, I wouldn't need _you_."

He blinked at her, his expression sincere – yes; he understood. He sensed what she was trying to tell him, and he swallowed hard. She had been careful with herself, emotionally and physically, for so long.

"I won't hurt you, Leia," he promised hoarsely. He hesitated, almost desperate. "I'll figure out somethin', about Jabba."

Three words lingered on her lips, but he kissed her before she could decide whether to say them, and she thought that maybe he already knew she loved him, and he knew how hard it was for her to be that vulnerable. She was grateful to him for that, and she gave herself over to the kiss, eager to finish what they'd started.

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 _-alexandra_  
 _#297_

 _*in case there's anyone left even slightly wondering, yeah: this fic addressed masturbation._


End file.
